


One Day I Will

by Clockwork_Mouse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2474894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork_Mouse/pseuds/Clockwork_Mouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester has no future. At least, that's what he's always believed, until he's forced into picking up the guitar and eventually joining the school band, much to his discomfort. But when he meets Castiel, a striking, talented musician, his discomfort starts to turn itself around, into something that might just be the closest thing to happiness he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this is my first proper published fanfiction so don't be too hard on me! It's a little cutesy sitting-next-to-each-other-in-orchestra AU with some smut later on unless I completely fuck that up and get rid of it. Might be a few chapters, but no more than 4 or 5. Anyway, hope you enjoy, please leave a comment, constructive criticism always helpful! Thanks for reading :)

It was when his Mom died that Dean first picked up a guitar.

It was that goddamn therapist’s idea, and Dean had hated the whole thing at first. She said it was to take his mind off his Mom, to get him to do something instead of sitting around all the time. He’d played along, tried a whole load of other activities she’d set up, although he’d been pretty crap at them all. It wasn’t until he went to the alien planet that was the music department that he sort of found something he could do.

He started by learning how to read the freaking dots and the lines and all the weird-ass symbols that you had to get sounds out of, but as soon as he could sort of work his way through a piece of music he got stuck for a bit. The music director, some stuffy old guy who smelled like dead things told him he should start an actual instrument like the piano or clarinet, but Dean wasn’t about to go pick up a freakin’ violin or something lame like that. It was already a risk for his popularity even walking into the place, so he settled with a guitar which was at least a little cooler than some puny little string instrument. It was the weirdest thing, at least at first. For one, the music kids that were basically professionals in about five different instruments were some of the oddest ones around. The only people in there he knew were the kids from his grade that were either nerds or druggies, some of which he’d hung out with briefly to take his mind off everything. All the popular people did sport, but his therapist had gone and set this up instead. He’d gotten kicked out of the soccer team anyway, for sending no less than three guys to hospital a few weeks after his Mom died. Music was the last thing Dean expected to do to pass the time, and definitely the last thing he thought he’d even begin to enjoy.He learnt songs that were easy but well known, how to read guitar tabs and even sung along to it a bit when nobody was listening. He never thought he’d get pretty good- he wasn’t like some people he’d hear, playing famous classical pieces that moved so fast their fingers should’ve caught fire. He just kept to himself, practicing whenever he could, saving up so maybe he could get his own instrument instead of the shitty school one he was borrowing. It gave him an escape from everything he’d been feeling, a way to make something he was half proud of.

He’d been playing the guitar for about 6 months before the director decided he wanted Dean to join a band or even the big orchestra instead of just playing by himself all the time. The guy made it sound perfectly reasonable, but as soon as he suggested it Dean’s insides squirmed. The thought of playing where other people could hear terrified him. He made some feeble attempts to get out of it, trying to tell the director he wasn’t good enough, he couldn’t read music quick enough, he wasn’t musical enough to participate in actual musical activities, but the dickhead didn’t listen. Dean knew he spent a ton of his spare time with the guitar in his hand, but it was only to please his therapist and escape from his problems. Maybe he could be good enough to play for other people, but the whole brilliant thing about music was that you didn’t other people once you’d learnt the basics. It was just something he did by himself.

But the director wouldn’t quit nagging him, and on top of that his therapist thought it was a fantastic idea. He spent a week or so kicking himself and occasionally his guitar as well, for ever picking up the thing, for ever even having a goddamn therapist. He was like some stuck-up rich kid with too many issues.

In the end, he realised the goddamn asshole was never going to stop bugging him to do it, so he signed up to the jazz band. He wasn’t going to be good enough for the orchestra, he’d been to a few concerts, mostly supporting various girlfriends over the years, and they were way above his standard. But the jazz band he’d only heard once, and they were good but it didn’t sound too hard. The beam of satisfaction from the director almost made him change his mind, but he managed to write his name on the list without chickening out and get himself away from all things musical for the rest of the day. It was hard not to worry about it 24/7 for the few days before the band rehearsed, but Dean managed to get through it. Playing the guitar didn’t really help this time, so for the first time in ages he left it in its case and did absolutely nothing for four days. It was crazy how much music had helped and how large the difference was when he left it alone. Anxieties starting building up again, so much so that by the time his band rolled around he had been tempted to go back to the drug dealers and never set foot in the music block again.

But at 4:30 on Friday afternoon, he dragged his feet through the familiar doorway. The atmosphere was different than the usual quiet pieces coming from closed off practice rooms. Everyone knew each other, laughing loudly about what happened last week, playing random notes on random instruments that clashed with the next person as everyone got out their things. Trying to ignore his heart beating out of his chest and his sweaty palms, Dean quietly got out his stuff in the corner, smiling at the odd classmate that went past him and looking as relaxed as he could muster.

The director noticed him after a while, and came up to him bubbling enthusiastically. “He babbled something incoherent and ushered over a dark haired boy with brilliant blue eyes holding a flute. Dean vaguely recognised him, remembering him to be pretty good. He’d never talked to him- Dean was way below his standard. “This is Castiel. He’ll show you the ropes,” the director said excitedly. Obviously a guy named Castiel had to play a freaking flute. The boy smiled widely, and Dean managed one back. He didn’t think flutes even played in jazz bands, but there you go. Dean tried to think of something to say as the director rushed off, but nothing came to mind. He was nowhere close to any good compared to this guy. Castiel just smiled again awkwardly, making Dean think that this probably wasn't his idea and lead him through the various music stands, chairs and instrument cases on the floor to the side of the room, right next to the wall and out of the way, which Dean silently thanked him for. “I heard you’ve only been playing that for a few months,” Castiel said, setting up his own stand and one for Dean. “You’re good. Not a bad singer, either,” he said, making Dean go an even brighter red than he thought possible. He only sang when there was nobody around. “I’m not nearly as good as you are,” he mumbled. Castiel laughed. “I can’t sing to save my life. And I’ve never been able to play the guitar, so you’d beat me on that as well,” he said confidently. Dean was surprised any noise had even come out. He turned to the music on the stand, stomach churning. There was no way he would ever be able to play this. Why had the director forced him into joining the band? He watched Castiel get out his flute and blow a super-fast scale up and down so high it made Dean’s ears ring.

He tried strumming through his own first few bars, but from the speed everyone else was practicing their own little phrases made it look a whole lot harder. And to make things worse, Castiel was sitting right next to him, and of course he’d sight-read it immediately. Dean didn’t even have another guitar player to cover up any noise he made. He wanted the ground to swallow him up, kicking himself for the millionth time for agreeing to this bullshit. Surely music was meant to calm him down? “It’s fine if you can’t play everything at first. We’re not expecting you to. Just try bits out,” Castiel said, like he sensed Dean’s discomfort. Dean was reassured for a bit by Castiel’s smile, and thought maybe they’d end up friends, sitting together in the band, but he turned to the flautist next to him and started laughing about something else that didn’t include Dean. He tried not to panic. He could play the easy-looking bits, kind of. And there weren’t too many flats or sharps to confuse the shit out of him. But despite him constantly telling himself it was fine, he was still about to run as far away as he could when the conductor brought in the first beat.

Overall, the whole playing part wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. He could play more than he’d thought he could, or maybe that’s just because everyone else was drowning him out. Of course, he could hear Castiel next to him playing every single note spot on, and the girl behind him on the saxophone was pretty fucking amazing as well. He just managed to get through it without making a fool of himself, which was really what he’d been most afraid of. He didn’t exactly belong in the music department, and the last thing he wanted was to broadcast that to the whole goddamn orchestra.

But yeah, he got it done. And he had to admit- they sounded pretty cool, even though it was the first rehearsal. He guessed everyone else was just so good that some crappy guy on guitar didn’t make much of a difference. Maybe he’d been overreacting a little. Castiel gave him a wide grin when they were done and Dean was drying his hands on his pants and praying he hadn’t sweated too much. “You did good,” he told Dean, and perhaps he couldn’t help feeling just a little warm underneath all the cold on top.

In the next few weeks, Dean’s overload of anxiety he got when Friday 4:30 rolled around started to diminish, until he found himself enjoying it. Maybe it was because he started forming more interesting words when he talked to people and actually ended up with a few friends, one of them Castiel. Before he’d completely kept to himself, half because he wanted his guitar to only include him and half because the music scholars were pretty unfriendly to outsiders who tried to invade their home. He talked to Jo as well, who was the girl sat behind him on the saxophone. It was fairly obvious she was crushing on Dean, but unlike usual he wasn’t really bothered. She was hot, and nice as well, but he preferred talking to Cas.

And at first it was just small talk about how much it was raining and how good Cas was at various different things, and casually exchanged smiles when they passed each other in the hallway, but later on in the semester they started talking about more interesting things like themselves and everything in between, and Dean started considering Cas as pretty much his only close friend. Some afternoons they would stay after orchestra until Cas had to catch the school bus home and Dean had to go and pay attention to his family for once, especially Sam who he left with their Dad all the time. But until then, it was nice to let everything go and just talk to someone like normal. Dean hadn’t really made any friends after his Mom died, and the ones he had before just got bored of him moping around. The druggies he hung out with didn’t really classify as his friends, just an escape. And the other musicians didn’t talk to him until Castiel did. He started learning things about him, like the fact he had three brothers and a sister and overly religious parents that seemed to have failed into converting him too, since the only thing he wanted to do was play music. Dean loved the way his eyes lit up when he talked about playing the flute, like that was the only thing he knew he’d ever want to do with his life. Dean envied him, wishing he could think about his future. He’d never expected one to happen, never really wanted one.

That was, until he met Cas.


	2. 2.

It was around the second half of that semester when Dean and Cas first kissed. 

It was like a fairytale, as if it wasn't really happening. Dean had spent so much time thinking Castiel was above him, more friends, confidence, talent, pretty much everything Dean lacked. He was still the tag along, and yet Castiel didn't stop bothering to try and coax a conversation out of him before the band started playing. It took Dean a while to recognise that Cas wasn't just being friendly at the music director's request, but was genuinely interested in him.

But even if Cas hadn't been, Dean still cherished every minute they spent together. Sometimes Dean would just sit in the room quietly while he practiced, and although classical wasn't his thing, which was why he chose guitar in the first place, it had a sort of serenity about it that made it so easy to listen to, especially when Cas played it. Dean still hated playing back to him, because he was so musically incompetent compared to Cas, however much Cas insisted Dean was a lot better than he believed. 

It was in one of these practicing sessions when something first happened. It wasn't planned, or even considered, but it was there and so real. Cas was playing 'Flight of the Bumblebee', and Dean was sitting there, gobsmacked, because how can fingers even move that fast? He couldn't even imagine playing that on the guitar, and he was sure he'd never get anywhere near Cas. He actually had talent, a career option, whereas Dean was more of a joke. He knew this whole music phase would never last, and sooner or later he'd put away the guitar for good and go back to drugs or cars or both. 

But in that moment Dean felt like he belonged there, with Cas, with the other weird kids in the music block, even the dickwad director. And Cas looked so natural with the long tube of shiny metal that somehow made all these beautiful sounds, and the way he stood, and the way his lips got a little wet from blowing into the hole in the top, so when he finished and muttered , "this piece is so hard", Dean got up and planted a little kiss on his cheek. 

Cas went bright red and didn't say anything, and Dean thoughts he'd really and truly fucked things up this time and was about to just rush off and never look at Cas again, before he kissed him back. It was only a peck on the cheek, as Dean had done, but it was more loving and affectionate than anything else that could have happened. Dean found himself blushing as well, and they stood there quietly for a while, Dean staring down at the floor awkwardly. 

"I have to get changed for the concert, Cas muttered after a couple of minutes of silence.  
"Me too," Dean smiled. Yeah, he was in a concert. Only a school one, but a concert nonetheless, and instead of being nervous he was excited. The guys wore a suit and the girls wore evening dresses, and his Dad and Sam were coming, and a while ago this would have been a nightmare, but now, with Cas sitting next to him for the single piece the jazz band were playing, Dean couldn't think of something better. 

Still in silence, Cas put his flute down in it's case, picked up his bag and left Dean in there to think about things. He wasn't gay. Cas wasn't either, but he'd given him a little kiss on the cheek and it was the most romantic thing Dean had ever done, and although he wasn't some hopeless romantic, he'd been mushy with girls before. Girls like that sort of thing. 

As far as Dean had felt before that moment, his feelings for Cas were just friendly. And yet he'd gone and done something that just felt right, and obviously it felt right for Cas as well. Maybe that was just it, maybe he finally did something right. Fucking miracle, really. 

He grabbed his own bag and wandered off to the boys toilets to get changed. Cas was in there, with a bow tie that he was struggling to get on in the mirror, making this face he did when he looks down. "Hi," Dean mumbled pretty much incoherently as he dumped his suit onto one of the closed toilet lids to change into.  
"Hi," Cas replied, but he didn't turn around. Maybe what Dean did wasn't 'right'. He wouldn't be surprised.  
"You want help with that?" he asked, referring to the bow tie Cas was having such an issue with.  
"Yeah," was all Cas said in reply. 

Dean crossed the small room and reached up to his neck. If he had made a mistake, would Cas not want to be friends anymore? Dean wasn't sure if he could stand that. A fantasy formed in his head, of him not being able to face going back to the music department because Cas and all his cool musical friends would just laugh at him, of him sitting at home at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon because he quit that band, put down the guitar and burnt the sheet music. He couldn't look Cas in the eye.  
"Are you gay, Dean?" He said suddenly, as Dean finished with the bow tie. Dean stared at him, so perplexed for a second that he almost forgot what the word meant, until he realised that what Cas was asking was just curiosity. After all, Dean was the one who kissed him.  
"No," he choked out eventually.  
"Sometimes I think I might be," Cas said quietly, almost as if he was embarassed to even consider the idea. 

"Oh," was all Dean said in reply, still avoiding eye contact with him, but realising now that Cas wouldn't just say that to anyone, only a good friend. So Dean was someone's good friend. The thought made him feel all warm and fluffy inside.  
"Is that it?" Cas said, a little louder. Oh God, don't get angry, Dean thought desperately. He was already terrified of losing him. "You just kissed me, Dean. You don't do that," 

He was right. Dean never did that.  
"I have to warm up. Thanks for doing my tie," Cas muttered before flouncing out the room, again leaving Dean alone with his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm doing multiple chapters. Cas is actually based on a really musical talented guy I'm too socially awkward to talk to (he does guitar) but basically I'm in love with him I'll stop talking now. Sorry about all the dreadful fluff.


End file.
